Page 16 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Ye leave me nay choice, bunny,” he muttered, marching to the table and lowering her none-too-gently into the chair across from his.
Her skirts flared around her knees as she straightened, indignant and flustered all at once.
“Eat,” he said simply, his eye narrowed as he sat down.
“I willnae,” she huffed, jutting her chin.
But her protest died down when he scooped up a spoonful of stew and brought it to her lips.
When she refused to open her mouth, he gave her a look that made her heart thump. Against her better judgment, she let him feed her one bite. But then something happened: she found herself opening her mouth seductively.
She didn’t know how it happened, but once her lips parted, she felt the shift.
He slowly pushed the spoon into her mouth and pulled it out. She heard a low moan escape her mouth, and she realized that by not feeding herself, she had played into his hands.
Mortified, she chewed. Then, with blazing cheeks, she reached for the spoon and yanked it from his hand.
“I’ll do it meself,” she hissed.
“And deprive me of the pleasure?” He tutted.
She huffed in annoyance; she could feel his devious smirk as he knocked back a dram of whiskey.
They ate in silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the soft clinking of cutlery. He sat close beside her, close enough that she could sense the heat radiating from his skin.
He was a brute—rough, unyielding, arrogant. But he was also strong, composed, and strangely magnetic.
As she sipped from her goblet, her thoughts tangled. The eyepatch, the scar peeking from beneath it, the stubble on his jaw—it all should’ve repulsed her. And yet some traitorous part of her was drawn to all of it.
I loathe me body for responding. Stop!
Abigail stabbed a hunk of oatbread with her knife, her jaw tight. “This would taste better if I wasnae eatin’ it beside a brute.”
Kian didn’t even look up as he tore into his venison. “Ye speak boldly, for someone who would’ve gone hungry if nae for this brute.”
“I’d rather starve than dine with an abductor,” she snapped, tossing her hair over her shoulder with more force than needed. “I’m only eatin’ so I have enough strength to throttle ye when I get the chance.”
He chuckled darkly, the sound making butterflies flutter in her stomach.
“Ye’ve got claws, bunny. I like it.”
“Stop callin’ me that,” she hissed, her face heating against her will. “I’m nae a wee creature for ye to trap and torment.”
Kian leaned back in his chair, his black eye fixed on her like he was reading her thoughts. “Nay, ye’re more like a fox—snappin’ and snarlin’, but underneath it all, curious.”
She dropped her fork onto her plate. “Curious? About what? Ye?”
“Aye,” he said with a slow grin. “Ye’ve looked at me more than yer stew.”
“I was tryin’ to figure out how someone so large could have such a small mind.”
His growl rumbled through the chamber. “Keep insultin’ me, lass. It’s makin’ this the finest supper I’ve had in ages.”
Abigail looked away, suppressing the smile tugging at her lips. She hated that he made her feel anything other than rage.
And yet there it was, a flicker of warmth she had no business feeling.
“Ye ken me family will find me soon,” she warned.
